Fine Day for a Wedding
by KateMarie
Summary: Ginny Weasley is miserable. How could her life have turned out so outrageously different from how she had planned? But maybe she's not the only one, and maybe an unlikely friendship can help them both realize that life isn't so bad after all.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaim!** I Disclaim! All characters etc. (except the itty bitty plot displayed here) belong to JKR in all her glory. Enjoy!

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Ginny spun round, allowing her arms to float out from her sides with the speed of her rotation. She didn't keep at it long, despite the calming effect the gentle _whish, whish _of her dress' fabric made as it interacted with the air. She slowed her pace until she was just rocking lightly on the balls of her feet because the dizziness her previous movements created was far less helpful to her nerves. She now stood, eyes closed, swaying gently from side to side in front of the mirror. Her movements echoed the tolling of a distant church bell—_whish, dong, whish, dong. _

She knew it was almost time, but she could feel her hands still shaking and this simple catatonic motion was easier to comprehend than the impending events waiting right outside the room. She could be alright with this, she believed herself to be capable of such mental leaps to eventually reach the point where she could be _ok _with this decision, she just wasn't there yet. If only she could have more time, if only—but, no, it hadn't been her decision to make. Things always get so very messy when you allow the heart to be involved. So instead, she focused on her dress, the one she hadn't thought she would wear. _Whish, dong, whish, dong, whish. _

Her artificial tranquility was shattered as the large wooden doors behind her banged open and she jumped at the unanticipated intrusion. "Weasley, Merlin! What are you doing up here?" Draco Malfoy questioned, not even waiting for a response before turning back towards the doors and shouting, "I've found her! Won't be but a moment!" And then he was facing her again, looking at her expectantly with one foot placed outside the door. "Well?" He asked, none too gently.

She stood in the same pose, as if the banging of the doors hadn't just set her heart flying into wild palpitations. If she walked out the doors then it would all be real, wouldn't it? If everyone was waiting, then it couldn't take place without her; it couldn't take place at all.

She continued ignoring his expectant stare and looked about the room thoughtfully. It wasn't so bad. A bit drafty she supposed, but all in all, yes, she did think she might be able to stay here forever. Especially with blankets. Blankets could make almost anywhere seem like home. She was interrupted again, this time by a noisy sigh from the Malfoy boy. "You have to come," he said, "It _will_ happen eventually, so you might as well come now."

Her eyes darkened at the truth of his words and she set away her short lived resolve to stay in the tiny room until she couldn't care anymore. "But isn't it bad luck?" She asked, half-heartedly gesturing to her dress.

He looked at her sadly and attempted a small smile. "I'm not sure that really applies here." He had tried to say it as gently as he knew how, but not having much practice in these matters he was unsure of her reaction. He was relieved when the thin girl before him only lowered her gaze and caught her lower lip between her teeth.

After allowing her a moment, he tentatively approached her—knowing they really were all waiting—and stooped slightly to her level. "C'mon Weasley," he said offering her his arm, "I'll walk you down the aisle." It was unfair to frame it as a favor, since he already had to walk her down the aisle whether she was willing or not, but she accepted his attempt at kindness. She nodded, and although her shoulders stooped, she took his proffered arm and they made their way to the chapel entrance.

Pasting on a smile, Ginny effused apologies all around for holding up the ceremony. She was answered with reassurances, understanding, and, worst of all, pity. Shortly though, the music began and Draco held fast to her arm, leading her down the aisle at a proper pace. All too soon for Ginny's liking, they had to part ways, Draco going to his side of the altar and Ginny to hers.

Ginny knew she would be here one day, she just hadn't realized how soon that day would come, and in what circumstances. These were certainly less desirable than most of the situations she had imagined for a wedding. The music changed and Ginny stifled a sigh of resignation as she was drawn out of her self reflection. _And now for the bride, _she thought as the doors to the chapel opened once more and admitted, to the delight of the assembled, a pleasantly blushing Hermione Granger in a flowing white silk gown with happiness radiating from every inch of her.

Ginny stole a look at the groom, even though she had promised herself she wouldn't. It only took one glance to remember why she had made that promise in the first place. There he was, looking as handsome as he ever had, beaming at the woman with whom he would soon share everything. Yes, Ginny harshly reiterated to herself, Harry Potter was getting married today, just not to her.

**AN**: Hiya! Hope you liked the prologue. I promise more is in the works as you read these very words. In the meantime, please leave a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thank you to all of my reviewers! Bel Dumbledore, Dracoginnylover24, and Ooheleth your comments were very encouraging! Here's chapter two and updates should be coming on a weekly basis. Thank you also for all the people who added me to their alert list, I know who you are even if you aren't leaving comments!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of it except some slowly emerging plot points. The rest you have JKR to thank!

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Draco was staring. It was a bit uncouth, certainly unbefitting a Malfoy, but he couldn't help it and he truly felt that this situation might warrant exception. There was lemon chiffon Absolutely Everywhere. 

No matter where he looked the color insulted his vision. He didn't even recognize the room it was so obstructing. It sat piled upon the plate before him, masking the plain white cake beneath, it hung in swaths about the ballroom, lightly bathing everything in a lemon chiffon haze, it glistened in ribbon form as it twined around the vases of the centerpieces and, perhaps most distracting of all, it wrapped itself around the three delicate frames of the bridesmaids sitting to his left at the bridal table.

Draco continued ignoring the frivolous toasts that had sprung up after those of the best man and maid of honor in favor of studying the various effects this color had on these three women. On Luna Lovegood, it softened her usually ethereal appearance. Her pale locks and soft blue eyes made it so she almost faded into the dress, blending into its frills perfectly. The dress' eccentricities lent a physical form to the girls internal ones. In an unexpected way, the color did not wash her out, but it made her seem more normal, as if she belonged to the dress and the dress to her, and somewhere in that equation it made them both seem completely natural, expected even in this setting.

For Parkinson, the dress just drew attention to her bold features. The fabric and the color

were so soft and unimposing; the complete opposite of the girl who occupied it. Her jet black hair and sharp aristocratic facial structuring stood out in breathtaking contrast to the rest of her garment. The smirk-tinted smile the girl had on all day attested to this fact—she knew she looked damn good. Pansy did have class though, and stayed just shy of flaunting to keep the limelight on her best friend, a friendship that had yet to be convincingly explained to Draco by any party.

On Ginevra Weasley though, the dress _did_ wash her out. Instead of complimenting or contrasting with her features it gave her a wane look. It made her seem insignificant, her freckles were even made bland by the way the color appeared lifeless on her. She blended into the background in that dress, which was just as well for her really, her melancholy was near impossible to detect unless you watched her just at the moments she was sure you were not. Draco could sense it though, having been paired with her all day he would have to possess legendary obtuseness to always miss how she shied from conversation, especially about the happy couple, and how she seemed at a complete loss as what to do without Draco's steady arm to guide her every step of the way.

As his gaze stayed upon her, he realized she was the only other one in the ballroom not caught up in the boisterous atmosphere. She seemed completely lost and directionless.

The light in the room shifted and it was announced that the couple would now share their first dance. The Weasley girls eyes grew wide and she looked as though someone had punched her in the gut. Not stopping to make sense of his actions, Draco rose as the guests' focus shifted to the dance floor.

"Weasley, come with me," he said, stopping behind her chair. She looked startled for a moment, but then resigned to be led out by this man who had been dragging her about all day. They slipped out easily unnoticed, everyone was ooing and ahhing at the bride and groom now gliding about the dance floor.

"Another picture?" She asked dully once they were outside the reception room.

His nose wrinkled at that. "You haven't had enough?"

He had been talking about the pictures of course. They had spent at least three hours today posing for Creevey, his crew, and every wizarding publication with enough press credentials to slip by security, but her lips quirked at the question for the thousands of other things to which it could apply.

He was surprised to see her slight amusement, and even more surprised that he was pleased to have been the one to bring it about. Even after all the pictures, not one of her smiles had reached her eyes today. But he felt a bit guilty too. It wouldn't have been very tactful to bring up such a sensitive subject in such a callous manner. "I didn't mean--"

"I knew what you meant," she soothed his amendment and continued following him, content in the silence and the utter non-thinking of it all. "Where are we?" She eventually voiced. They had come to a halt somewhere within the estates voluminous gardens, that much she could tell, but they had passed so many hedges and walked through so many flower beds that she wondered if he had gotten them purposefully lost. However, it was clear her companion knew just where they were as he gestured to the bench she should claim and reached into an enchanted rosebush behind him, producing a bottle of champagne, two flutes, and a bowl of grapes.

"The final selling point for Potter to get me to agree to this whole ordeal," he explained as he rolled up his shirtsleeves and began wrestling to uncork the champagne, "was when he explained to me the certain... _leverage_, shall we say, that a groomsman has when it comes to wooing the fairer members of the assembled guests." He was pouring the bubbling gold liquid now, still talking, "Obviously, the evening has turned out a bit differently than I had planned, but there's no reason for my fastidious preparation to go to waste." He then handed her one of the glasses and reclined on the bench to her right, ignoring his own glass and instead taking a long pull from the bottle. Ginny sat tall on her bench, looking entirely too proud and comfortable to have either of those be true. She took a deep sip from her glass and looked at it appreciatively as she felt the carbonation explode on her tongue and the alcohol settle warmly in her stomach.

"I suppose I should thank you," she said with nonchalant bravado, still not looking up from her glass, "It should be embarrassing really, having to rely on a near stranger all day long just to get through a simple muggle wedding, but... Well, anyway, thank you."

"Weasley," he said in exasperation, "I'm hardly a stranger. We lived in that house together for nearly three whole years."

"So," she said, taking a purposeful sip of her drink and regarding him cooly, "That means you know me then?"

"If you're asking me whether I know all the deep dark secrets of your heart, or what the niggling little thoughts are that keep you up at night, or even the exact reasoning for your pathetic attempts at appearing completely fine with everything going on today then, no, I don't know you. But I understand you Weasley, and that's near enough the same."

She snorted at his response, downed the rest of her champagne and sprung to her feet, pacing the tiny alcove with crazed intent. "You don't understand me, Malfoy," she murmured vehemently.

He opened his mouth to rebuke her, but before he could even draw breath she was stalking more fervently, babbling on with all pretenses of her supposed normalcy abandoned. "I'm just some pathetic waif then, I suppose, completely besotted with an unattainable man, the fiction of a life I will never achieve. I'm selfish, to be sure, to spend my friends' day of celebration wallowing in so much self pity that I almost cease to function, thinking only of myself when I should be thinking about what's best for _all; _this so-called 'Greater Good' we've all spent so much of our bloody time fighting for. You might as well tack on extremely shallow to my list of offenses, to allow such a thing as a _silly boy _to make me act in such an atrocious manner. Not only that, but I also seem to have ruined your personal chances of gaining any fun out of the evening. Is this your estimation of me? Is this the basis for your claimed understanding? In your eyes I must seem very poor indeed, if this is what you _understand me_ to be. Or maybe, maybe you've all got it so fucking wrong."

She stopped here and Draco sat awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to such a tirade. Again though, before he could even formulate words, the craziest of Weasley's had launched herself at him, presumably aiming for his mouth.

Their heads crashed together painfully, but she was not to be deterred. Finally finding his mouth, she captured his lips in a crude imitation of a kiss. Draco had regained enough of his senses by now to try and pull her from him, but his movements made her more desperate and in her frenzy she bit down hard on his lip. Reacting to the pain, Draco abandoned gentleness and shoved her from him roughly.

"Fuck, Weasley! What the hell?" He exclaimed touching two fingers to his bleeding lip.

Ginny, to her credit, looked absolutely mortified at what she had just done. Her face turned all red and splotchy, her eyes filled with tears and before Draco could even reach out a comforting and apologetic hand, she had turned and fled the scene.

"Fuck," Draco said again, this time to himself, "Fuckity fuck fuck fuck." This evening had definitely not gone in any one of the directions he had imagined. He ran his hands through his hair and reclaimed his position on the bench, taking another long pull from the bottle and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.

It wasn't long before he heard the bushes rustle from the direction the Weasley girl had run off, and he quickly drew himself upright, preparing for another onslaught—either verbal or physical—but the girl failed to materialize.

Instead, he was greeted by the reddened round face of Neville Longbottom. Draco frowned at his presence. Despite the endless fittings, rehearsal banquets, and the thousands of photos on this day alone, Draco still couldn't get used to seeing Longbottom dressed identically to himself. It just seemed unnatural, as if some great law was not only being broken, but trodden upon and desecrated by this repeated infraction.

But Longbottom was talking now and Draco was loathe to let someone think he was stuck on that subject again so he forced himself to pay attention, "She looked really upset, didn't even have her shoes on, but she refused to tell me anything and went tearing straight past me. I was coming to find you anyway, but do you know what might be wrong with Ginny?"

"You were trying to find me?" He asked, pointedly ignoring Longbottom's concern. Draco regarded him carefully, waiting to see if he would take note of the champagne, grapes, secluded alcove, put two and two together and arrive at five. Especially if the shoes he claimed Weasley wasn't wearing were somewhere in plain sight. It was one thing to be accused of nefarious deeds when the claim matched the intention, but when there was a crying girl and a large excitable family involved... no, Draco did not want Longbottom to arrive at the wrong conclusion, even if it would take him a month to get there.

"Did you see Ginny pass this way?"

He saw them now, they must have come off somewhere between her rabid pacing and the assault she launched on him. Apparently her mind wasn't the only thing Weasley lost tonight. They seemed large for a womans' shoe, which made the daintiness of the decoration and the lemon chiffon dye job seem even more absurd.

He walked closer to Longbottom, discreetly kicking the shoes into a patch of zinnias on his way, "I haven't seen the Weasley girl since I escorted her out of the ballroom. She looked in need of some air, so I showed her the gardens, but let her be. I haven't been with her for nearly an hour now, which is the first time all day I would be able to say that. Now Longbottom, what did you need _me _for?" He was standing as close as his personal comfort would allow so that Neville's view was filled with him and the periphery details would be less likely noticed.

"Yes, probably best to just let her be right now," Longbottom answered, seemingly lost in thought. He came back to himself quickly though, Draco's current proxemics making it impossible to remain absent for long. "Right! You though, er...yes! They're leaving! That's what it was! Harry and Hermione are about to depart for their honeymoon and I thought you might like to know."

"Bugger. Thanks, Longbottom," Draco said, clapping the other man briefly on the back before taking off at a jog towards the reception hall. He managed to arrive just as Hermione and Harry were waving good-bye. He was stuck on the fringes of the large crowd, but had a clear view of the groom. Harry was scanning through the massive assembly, his brow furrowed in confusion at his inability to locate the person he was seeking. Finally, Harry's eyes fell upon Draco and the fair haired man gave him a small smirk and a nod before the gesture was returned. Hermione tugged on her husband's arm and their contact was broken, but the momentary tension had eased out of Harry's face and he was fully back in the moment. The couple smiled brightly at the crowd once more, activated the portkey, and just like that, they were gone.

The guests milled around aimlessly for a few moments before Draco called for their attention. "Thank you all for coming and celebrating this long overdue occasion with us," he began, eliciting small chuckles from the crowd, "There's plenty of food and dancing left to be had, so please feel free to stay and enjoy yourselves as long as you wish. The house elves will help you with your transportation home when you're ready and are located at the front hall and back drive. The entire estate is warded with anti-apparation charms, but given the depletion to my stock of liquor tonight, nobody should be attempting that mode of transit anyway. Thank you all again and have a pleasant evening." The crowd again rippled with appreciative laughs and scattered applause. Draco waved with the proper groomsman cheeriness and waited until the attention was sufficiently directed away from him. He ducked his head and slinked back out of the ball room.

The Weasley girl might be insane, but at least she was intriguing. He would need something to keep him occupied while Potter wasn't around to force him into life-threatening, world-saving schemes at every turn. Puzzling her out might be just the thing. She had said he had her all wrong and a Malfoy being wrong was a rare thing indeed. Two little lemon chiffon heels might help him figure out if this was one such instance.


End file.
